


You're So Dark

by conboimckinky



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Anal Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Possessed 2D, Teasing, nsfw scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 05:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conboimckinky/pseuds/conboimckinky
Summary: Murdoc was told 2D had changed. Warned, actually. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't /this/.He's unbelievably attracted to the new confident Stuart Pot- so much so, he doesn't realise it's a much bigger problem than anyone could have anticipated.------Possessed!2D AU. Phase 5, of course. The title is a reference to an Arctic Monkeys song of the same name- big 2Doc energy, highly recommend.





	You're So Dark

Chapter One

Home.

Murdoc wasn't sure he was allowed to call it that anymore. Not out loud, anyway- judging by the glares Noodle had been handing him the whole way back. He stood on their doorstep, looking at their door as if it were brand new to him. 

He was glad to be back. It hadn't mattered whether the band was still mad at him, he just wanted to get back. To their house. To their band. To their music, despite being excluded from the last album. 

Bastards. He had missed them. 

"Knock, then," Noodle snapped from behind him, rolling her eyes. 

"Yes, alright," Murdoc said with a small huff.

He knocked twice, and then the door swung open as if the figure had been stood behind it, waiting. He wasn't sure what he had expected to see, but it certainly wasn't Stuart Pot- not like that. 

There stood his frontman, but he was barely recognisable. He leant against the doorway, looking purposefully down at Murdoc, cigarette hanging from his lips. His hair had been slicked and pushed back, far from it's usual mess. And the collar of his leather jacket was popped against his jawline, without a shirt underneath, and the tightest jeans the bassist had ever seen. He'd even slung a heavy-looking black leather belt around his thin waist.

The only sign of normality Murdoc could gather was 2D's mismatched socks- one bright pink, and the other faded yellow. 

He only realised he'd been staring when the taller man cleared his throat, stepping out of the doorway. Noodle huffed again. She pushed them both out of the way, smartly leaving them to have their weird standoff in favour of a cup of tea. 

"Your eyes are white," Murdoc commented, his thoughts tripping over themselves as they tried to catch up with what he was seeing. 

2D scoffed, motioning for the Satanist to come inside and rolling his eyes. Even the way he walked was different. More confident. Self-assured. And more than a little cocky- maybe he knew he looked good (a fact Murdoc wasn't going to waste his breath denying, after spending his whole prison stay tormented by vision of green shorts and gap-toothed smiles). He liked to believe he found it irritating more than anything else, but he was trying not to lie so much anymore.

"Cuppa?" 2D asked once they reached the kitchen, almost bumping into Noodle as she made her way to the stairs. 

Murdoc sat heavily at the end of their kitchen table. He gave Stu a curious glance and nodded slowly. The way his singer held himself had changed completely- leaning against the counter, hands on his hips, chest out, and looking endlessly bored. Like he had somewhere else to be that was infinitely more interesting than in the kitchen of their house, offering his newly released bandmate a cup of tea.  
It was, frankly, enticing. 

"Coffee, please- black, two sugars." 

"I know how you take your coffee, dickhead. Only had me makin' it for you for the best part of twenty fuckin' years." 

Oh. Murdoc snorted, finding the brisk and angry response almost funny. He shook his head and ran his hands through his bangs. Stuart gave a huff, and switched the kettle on. The air was tense, bearing down on Murdoc's nerves, making him itch. He began to scratch his arm and dragged his gaze around the kitchen- they'd put away all his booze, apparently. Which was fair, he supposed, but he still wanted it. Alcohol was hard to come by in prison. He cleared his throat and Stu slammed the fridge door shut before turning, eyebrows raised and disinterest on his face.

"What?" He asked, picking up their drinks and placing the bassists in front of him. 

"Where's all my fuckin' booze?" 

2D looked unimpressed. He sipped his tea- peppermint, Murdoc could smell it, another sign of normality, thank Satan- and rolled his eyes. 

"Not even a proper fuckin' hello. Don't they teach you manners in prison?" He asked, meeting the older man's eyes with a tight lipped, sarcastic grin on his face.

"Not with the fuckin' look you gave me at the door," Murdoc answered with a huff. 

"Hurt your feelings?"

"Made me want to punch you in the fuckin' face."

"Why didn't you? Nothin' stoppin' you, never hesitated before," Stuart shot back. 

Murdoc grimaced at that. His gaze fell to his black coffee, silenced by the comment. He didn't like to think about that. Not at all. Which, he supposed, was part of the problem- but he was changing. He wasn't that person anymore. 

"Thought so," the other commented lightly, the sharp edge in his cockney accent dipping. 

Murdoc swallowed and looked up again, his knee bouncing under the table. And he was still scratching his arm. All anxiety tells, according to the therapist he'd been forced to see while banged up. He thought it was a ridiculous suggestion.

"I'm not like that anymore," he offered, "I don't do that shit anymore. I'm sorry for all of it, Dents." 

"Stuart." 

"What?" Murdoc asked, baffled by the change in subject. "What d'ya mean?"

"You call me Stuart, or Stu, but no more 'Dents' or '2D'. Not anymore. I ain't your bloody property, I'll use my own name, ta." 

Stuart sipped his tea as if he hadn't just said that. Murdoc, however, froze completely. He'd never heard the singer so commanding before. So sure of himself- of what he wanted. And he wasn't too sure how to react. But he couldn't deny that it was exciting. The change in Stu's personality was thrilling, to say the least. His expression twisted into a smirk and he leant forward with his elbows on the table, deciding to see how far he could push it.

"Certainly changed, you. No longer a brainless push-around, eh? 'Not my property'? Interestin'."

Stu snorted, leaning forward and copying the bassists smirk. 

"Changed? For sure. Room for that with your big ego outta the way," he answered, leaning back in his chair and swinging on the two back legs.

"Who's got the big ego now, eh, Stuart?" Murdoc asked with a grin, sarcasm bleeding into his tone. 

He expected Stu to huff. Tell him to piss off. Get upset about not being taken seriously. The singer did none of those things. Instead, he met Murdoc's eyes with an equally sly grin.

"Suits me better," he replied, kicking his socked feet up onto the table. "What d'ya reckon? New look, new attitude- hundred times more attractive now, me." 

It occured to Murdoc, then, that they were flirting. Properly. Not the kind where he got too drunk and started feeding 2D strawberries, or behaved like a sleeze just to wind him up. And not the kind where 2D got too high and started spouting years-old 'thank you's with tears in his eyes. Proper flirting. With dubious eye contact and sly smirks, questions of attractiveness, and a different kind of tension in the air than when he'd first walked in. 

How interesting. The idea was far from repulsive. He hummed, taking a sip of his coffee before answering.

"Suits you better than dressin' like a prepubescent Sheldon Cooper. Popped collar's a bit much." 

"Shirtlessness ain't botherin' you? Comin' for your brand, me. Except less disgustin' wanker and more pretty-boy." 

"Pretty-boy's pushin' it." 

Stu laughed at that, amused. He got up and slowly slinked his way to Murdoc's end of the table. The bassist watched him, curious as to his next move. Part of him expected a slap, or perhaps to be left hanging. Wondering. For 2D to move past him as if he wasn't there- that would have drove him a little nuts. Because the whole thing was deliriously attractive- the attitude, the confidence. Intoxicating. 

Thankfully, the frontman was more merciful than that. He was enjoying himself far too much to leave. Instead, he pushed Murdoc's coffee cup out of the way and sat on the edge of the table. He leant back, all his weight on one hand, and crossed his legs, looking practically down his nose at the Satanist. They made eye contact, and there was something alien in Stu's eyes that Murdoc had never seen before- something lustful, confident, and inherently dangerous. 

And it was exciting.

"You sure pretty-boy's pushin' it, old man? The way you're eyein' me up, it doesn't even seem to cover it," 2D drawled, accent thick, tone laced with sarcasm and far too suggestive for him to ignore.

"Eyein' you up?" The bassist repeated, still leant forward. "Not a lot to see, jus' a massive dickhead on a table." 

Stuart laughed, then. A low, amused chuckle- cocky and witty. He leant forward, uncrossing his legs and dropping one either side of Murdoc, shifting to sit directly in front of him. He placed both his hands on the older man's chest and moved closer, levelling their faces only inches away. He even fluttered his eyelashes, smug.

"Dickhead?" He questioned, voice now almost a whisper. "Thinkin' a lot about my /dick/, Murdoc?" 

That tone was enough to send Murdoc's heart racing. He swallowed the lump in his throat and, despite all his efforts, couldn't resist breaking the eye contact to glance briefly at the frontman's lips. Twist into a smirk, so close to his own, just one movement and- 

"You didn't answer- thinkin' a lot about my /dick/, Murdoc?" 

He swallowed again, and then cocked one eyebrow in an attempt to gather some shreds of dignity. Slowly, he slid his hand across the table to rest testingly on Stu's behind. The singer didn't move to stop him.

"Maybe," he answered, forcing fake sweetness into his tone. "Jus' maybe, pretty-boy." 

Stuart smirked, and started leaning closer before Murdoc even realised. He moved automatically. Had he forgotten how to breathe, he wondered, as he went a little dizzy and felt his throat close. So close. Half an inch away. He could feel 2D's breath on his face, warm and smelling like cigarettes- 

The front door slammed and they jumped apart. Murdoc sent his coffee flying, and Stu blinked as if waking up from a trance. The heavy footsteps could only have been Russ…

"Where is the bastard? Need a chat, Murdoc."


End file.
